


These Things Take Time

by Jenna Hilary Sinclair (JennaHilary)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 15:47:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11740182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaHilary/pseuds/Jenna%20Hilary%20Sinclair
Summary: Alternate Universe.  Jim Kirk and Spock meet at a business seminar.





	These Things Take Time

Who would have thought that my life would take this turn? I have to laugh when I think of it. I’ve always been a person who laughs often and heartily and, oddly enough, I’m still that way. 

I wasn’t very happy two years ago, though, when I realized that if I wanted to expand my delivery service off-planet, I’d be forced to take a full two weeks out of my schedule, go to Jefferson, our capital city, and attend some stupid, bureaucrat's dream of a time-wasting seminar. Why the CEO of a company, even one as small as mine was then, was required to spend precious time…. Well, it’s ungracious of me to complain, considering the results. I was determined to make more of Kirk Express than I could on our backwater planet; even though my planet of Giria Prime had recently managed to create a confederation of four systems, there was a lot more to the galaxy than the Quadrenian Confederation, and I was going to take advantage of my planet’s new status and connections. 

So on a bright spring day I packed my bag, told my secretary Janice to hold the fort, instructed Scotty, my chief operating officer, to keep the planes in the air and the packages flowing, and I set off for Jefferson, gritting my teeth and doing my best to convince myself that it was possible for my time away to be worthwhile.

You see, I love my work and resented any interruption to it. Back then, I loved what I thought my work could bring me. I had sown my wild oats when I was young and then, enticed by a vision of what I could accomplish, I’d started my company with two credits and a dream. I’d rolled up my sleeves with relish. We’d done well since then, but I knew we could do better.

Which was why, on a sun-filled Monday morning, I was sitting in a classroom with thirty other men and women, all of them CEOs of small businesses like mine, ready to absorb what our new government was instituting as requirements for any company who wanted to do business off-planet and within Confederation space. 

Spock caught my eye immediately; he was the only non-human there. You don’t see Vulcans too often. I’d known there was a settlement of them on Marius III, in the system furthest out and least known in our tiny Confederation, and I knew that they practiced restraint of emotion, rarely laughed or smiled, and were among the smartest beings around, but I’d never met one personally before. 

Yes, I noticed him, but not for any of the reasons I’d look at him today. I thought he was, oh, I don’t know, compelling in a way I couldn’t quite define. So different from the faces that usually confronted me over boardrooms during negotiations as I tried to land another client, or in one of our warehouses as I made sure our employees understood my very high standards for handling every package entrusted to us. Those Vulcan features fascinated me from the moment I caught sight of him, one seat in front of me and two rows over, and while I dutifully paid attention to what was being said at the front of the room, I will admit that often my eyes strayed to those elegantly pointed ears.

I also evaluated the women in the room. My relationship with Carol had broken up badly more than a year before and, rather than immediately go back to dating, I’d taken some time to lick my wounds. It seems that despite a lifetime of being with women, I still didn’t understand them well enough to make a relationship work, and I was frustrated. My mother, God rest her soul, had once told me that the men in our family needed to be married. It’s strange, how I always remember her saying that. Well, at the age of thirty-four, I’d finally come to agree with her. I was feeling the need to settle down, and I’d thought maybe Carol was the one. But she wasn’t. 

So I examined the seven women in the room closely; I’d been celibate too long and it was time to get back into the game. 

At lunchtime I went out with a group of twelve from the class and discovered two of the women were married, though one other looked promising. I realized that the other men were interested in her, too, and she played us for all she was worth. When before I might have found her flirtations amusing, even a challenge I wanted to meet, I was indifferent to that superficiality now. I sat back and watched the others make fools of themselves over her. 

That afternoon we broke into groups for discussion, and Spock was one of the people in mine. That pleased me. It would be an opportunity to talk to him, get to know how he thought, try to understand the views of the people—or at least the Vulcans—on Marius III, and see if there was a chance of drumming up some business from that planet. I situated myself directly across the table from him and was surprised when he was the first to respond to the initial problem posed by the seminar leader. He might be a quiet, composed Vulcan, but he had opinions and didn’t hesitate to express them. I was pleased to hear his deep, calm voice. It sounded good in my ear. He talked like a reasonable man, and I liked what he had to say. I leaned forward and responded to his comments, and he responded to mine, and though the man next to him interjected something, we mainly focused on what the other had to say.

You see how I was fooling myself. But I honestly didn’t know what was happening, what had started to happen the moment I’d stepped into the room and caught sight of him. I didn’t know myself as well as I should have, maybe, but no harm was done in the end. Thanks to Spock. 

So. An interminable hour passed—how enthusiastically can eight people discuss the ramifications of accounting tax rules?—and finally the leader called a fifteen minute break. I found the restroom, though Spock stayed where he was, and when I was finished I bypassed the mid-afternoon refreshments the government was thoughtfully providing with the money they’d charged for this time-waster, and I made a bee-line back to where the Vulcan was still sitting. 

I stood at my seat, held the seatback, and said, “Hi.” Which sounded inane the moment it came out of my mouth, since we’d been talking to each other like business acquaintances, but, still, that was the first word I directed to him on a purely personal basis. 

He looked up at me, so seriously, and returned, “Hello, Mister Kirk.” I noticed how pure brown his eyes were. 

“Call me Jim.”

He nodded and said, “I will be pleased to do so.” 

I sat down and asked him how he pronounced his name, the one that was listed in the program we’d all been given, and he told me not to even try. “‘Spock will be more than adequate.” 

There was a short silence and I was conscious of the fact that others would be joining us soon and my opportunity to talk to this man might be short. I cast about for something to say to him when he surprised me by saying, in the direct way I was learning was his style, “The election of Commissioner Ferris to the presidency of the Confederation was unexpected to me. Did you vote for him?” 

Now here was a man, I thought, who knew how to start a conversation. I’d ceased paying attention to the sports scores years ago, and I didn’t care about the latest media sensation, but politics—that was something I could sink my teeth into.

By the time anybody else found their way back to our table, Spock and I were deep into a heated discussion about what really mattered in our society, about how the new planetary union of which we were a part would hurt or hinder the average business person, and about how stupid Ferris’s ideas about the tariff were. 

Janice would have rolled her eyes at me. Secretaries—pardon me, she wants to be called my executive assistant now—have certain rights and she took them all. She would have told me to relax and treat the seminar as a vacation. Well, I was. I liked talking politics and I discovered that I liked talking with Spock. Too soon, though, we were called to order and got back to the official topics of the day. The hours stretched. I listened to the seminar leader drone on and realized with dismay that I was going to be incredibly bored if this went on. But I had to attend this conference to get the certification my company needed to trade off-world, so I was stuck. But this was only the first day of a twelve day marathon….

That night there was a cocktail party in a mediocre restaurant hosted by the Confederation Board of Interplanetary Trade, designed to help us get to know one another and of course to establish contacts. Spock wasn’t there, but all the women were, and I spent the evening chatting up a twenty-eight year old who had that look in her eyes I had come to recognize. We retired to a pretty-good encounter in her hotel room; I might not have any skill in maintaining a long-term relationship, but I still knew how to perform in the bedroom. I satisfied her, I’m sure of it. 

But I left as soon as it was possible to do so without offending her. I think my saying good-bye twenty minutes after we’d subsided against the mattress made it clear to her that this was a one-time deal. She didn’t seem to mind. At any rate, I know she hooked up with a guy from New Pittsburgh a few days later.

In the morning the ubiquitous donuts and pastries were spread out for the attendees to gorge ourselves on before we started a new day, and as I surveyed the display a quiet, velvet voice asked from behind me, “You do not intend to partake of the morning offerings?”

I turned around and of course it was Spock who’d made that comment directly in my ear. He had a cup of juice in one hand and a plastic covered dish of something in the other. 

I shook my head. “I don’t need those calories.”

“It is interesting to me how such unhealthful confections became a staple of human diets at events such as this. Most humans I know do not consume them while in their homes.” 

I tucked away the information that he knew other humans and had attended other business seminars, and then I asked him what he was going to eat for breakfast.

He lifted the plastic tray. “I have located a small delicatessen with fruit trays, yogurt, tanatur, and feshton bread close to my hotel. I intend to frequent it for more nutritious meals than those provided by the government.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me.” 

Spock looked like he was about to say something more, but then one of the men I’d had lunch with the day before, an okay fellow named Morris, came up to us and asked me if I’d seen the game on the vid last night. The Vulcan slipped away from the conversation, and I was left alone to admit my total disinterest in sports.

Can you believe that in addition to charging more than a thousand credits for the course, the government expected us to do homework? It had been years since I’d had to spend the evening studying, but that’s what I did that night. I slipped into the rhythm of it easily, and even found some challenge in working on the case study, but I hadn’t expected to be treated like a college kid. 

The next morning we broke into the same groups again and were given an assignment to work on together. It didn’t take long to realize that Spock’s approach was the most efficient of any other proposed. I was impressed by his powers of organization and analysis, so during a break where once again he didn’t leave the classroom, I asked him what he did for a living. 

“I am chief executive officer of Geodynamic Surveys. My firm provides information to the planetary government of Marius III concerning expansion of roadways and the construction of other public works.” 

“You started the company yourself?”

“Indeed I did, Jim.” 

“So you’re a scientist?”

“I wish I could answer in the affirmative. My days are filled with administrative work, but I was trained as a scientist, yes, and would wish to return to functioning as one some time in the future.” 

I knew what he meant. Entrepreneurs like us needed one set of skills to start a company and a completely different set to make it successful and allow it to grow. I’d started in the bush country on Giria’s northern continent ten years ago delivering food and supplies to prospectors and far-off outposts, flying my own two-seater and loving every moment I had in the air. Since then Kirk Express had expanded a hundred-fold, and I lived in my office, not in my plane. 

Spock was looking at me somewhat diffidently. “What?” I asked.

“I am interested in learning more about your world from a businessperson’s perspective. Perhaps you would be willing to indulge my curiosity at lunch today in the cafeteria?”

I’d been asked out to lunch by hundreds of different people over the years: vendors wanting my business, potential customers wanting to curry favor, friends from college, lovers, co-workers. Heck, my cousin Herman who grew up on the other side of the valley. Then why was my attention so suddenly riveted on Spock and what he was saying? Even now, two years later, I remember exactly how he looked when he asked that and how calmly he seemed to be sitting waiting for my answer. I wondered, at the time, if others had declined his invitations simply because he was not human. Well, not me. I wanted to learn all I could about other races, other cultures, and other planets, and here was my first big opportunity. I would no more have said “no” to him than I would have jettisoned the freight of our biggest customer.

“Sure. So long as you reciprocate and tell me about the business opportunities on your planet.”

Though he did not smile, his eyes sort of crinkled, and a light danced in them. I remembered what I knew about Vulcans and doubted my conclusion, which was that Spock was smiling at me in his own special way. 

“I believe the correct term is: it is a deal.”

After that I got caught up with another project with a different group of people, and when lunchtime came I looked around and there was no sign of Spock. Most of the class were taking the noon meal in the building cafeteria, which was the headquarters for the Board of Interplanetary Trade, so I thought maybe he’d preceded me there. I went through the line, chatting with Morris and a fellow named Rashid who was staying in the same hotel I was, but when my tray was full and I’d paid the cashier, still I didn’t see the Vulcan. 

I was disappointed. I hadn’t thought he was the kind of person who made an arrangement to meet and then didn’t show up. As a matter of fact, I was disappointed all out of proportion to the event, and I told myself that. There would be other times to find out about the fourth system in the Confederation. 

And so, at their invitation, I followed Morris and Rashid to their table, where there were two women and another guy already seated. Mo made introductions all around, and then I slid into a vacant seat and started to unload the plates from my tray. Maybe it was time I started to seriously make some connections for my business with the other attendees. Make lemonade from lemons, as my friend Len would say.

Before I could say a word, a figure loomed next to my shoulder, throwing a shadow on my place, and I looked up. Of course it was Spock. 

“Was I incorrect in understanding we were to share lunch today?” He directed his words only to me and didn’t even acknowledge the others. Although he was very polite, for the first time I saw the determination and strength of the man. There was a sudden strained silence at the table.

This was awkward. I felt more than a little foolish for not having waited for him longer or looked for him harder; now it seemed like I was the one who perhaps didn’t want to dine with him instead of the other way around. 

“No, that’s what I thought, too. But I couldn’t find you.” 

He nodded off towards the corner. “I have secured a table for us.” 

“Well, in that case….” I looked at the others. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen, ladies, I do have a prior engagement.” I reloaded my food on the tray and walked over to a table for two with Spock, feeling self-conscious and yet relieved at the same time. My evaluation of him hadn’t been incorrect; he wasn’t the sort of fellow to go back on his word. 

That lunch might have been uncomfortable; I didn’t really know this Vulcan, and he’d just come close to embarrassing me with his insistence that we follow through on our agreement to share a meal. I think most humans, when confronted with the same situation, would have quietly retreated, assuming the worst. As I started my conversation with Spock, I found I was grateful that he wasn’t human and hadn’t taken the easy way out.

He’d found a table for us by a window, where the view was a pleasant one of trees in a park-like area in front of the building, but I didn’t pay much attention to that. Rather I concentrated on what he had to tell me, for with the first bite he went straight to the subject of trade. No small talk in Vulcan circles, I surmised, but I was grateful, because I wanted to get straight down to business with him. 

His planet was definitely one of the first places I would attempt to expand Kirk Express, maybe the first place, as the business environment he described sounded ripe for my kind of service. I had big plans, some would call them dreams. Initially, I would try to unite the seven planets in the Confederation in a way far more tangible than the political union among us; I would strengthen the ties of trade. My business was suited for that role. The more Spock told me about possibilities, the more eager I became. 

And he seemed interested in what I had to tell him about Giria. He abandoned his food and placed his elbows on the table, joined his hands as if in great concentration, and got an intent look in his eyes as I described what I thought might be pertinent for a company specializing in geological surveys. He leaned over the table, closer to me in his interest, and gave me his full attention in a way that I’d rarely received it from anybody before. 

That part of our lunchtime conversation: he didn’t speak at all, just listened, and yet I felt as if I was getting to know him pretty well. The way he cocked his head when I said something he didn’t quite agree with or understand completely. The way he nodded gravely when I made a point we both knew was important. The way his lips compressed and then released, and how those pointed ears and upswept eyebrows that had so caught my attention on the first day of the seminar now seemed normal and natural and just right on his severe, definitely masculine features. 

I was surprised when others around us began to get up from their tables and leave; how had the time passed so quickly? 

“Guess it’s time to go back to the coal mines.”

His brow lifted in what I guessed was skepticism. It was interesting, this learning to read a being who wasn’t from my own cultural background. 

“Coal mines? Although I can discern the meaning of your comment from contextual clues, I am fascinated with such a phrase. There are no coal mines on Giria.”

I got up, stacked my tray, and went over to relinquish it to the kitchen, with Spock right behind me. “It must have come out with the settlers from Earth, where there are coal mines. You speak Standard like a native-speaker, but I guess you aren’t, are you?”

“That is correct,” he said, and for the first time I thought I noticed a hesitation about him. “Although from an early age I have been bi-lingual.” 

And that was that. I’d enjoyed that lunch, but we were only three days into this session with a lot more to go, and I did find that the government might not have been quite as stupid in arranging things as I’d first assumed. That afternoon was taken up with a tour of the capital city and introductions to various bureaucratic functionaries who greased the wheels of commerce and who were, frankly, essential to the economy. I didn’t see much of Spock the rest of that day and evening, which I spent out drinking with Mo and a few of his friends, and I didn’t see much of him the next day beyond a nod in the morning before we were swept off to a different part of the city for a conference given at the largest university on the planet. 

I’ve got to admit, it wasn’t like he was on my mind all the time. He was just a sort of warm glow that added to the experience of the week: I’d met a Vulcan, and I knew that if the opportunity presented itself, I’d be pleased to continue our acquaintance. 

Turned out, Spock had been thinking much more definitely along those lines. 

On Friday afternoon after lunch, the board finally got the entire group back together again in the classroom where we’d started. Before we took our seats, Spock came across the room with a determined stride, and I knew he was approaching for some conversation with me. I greeted him with a warm smile.

“Hi,” I said. “Haven’t seen much of you lately. How’s the week been going for you?”

“Adequately,” he responded shortly. “Jim, would you be interested in attending the basketball game tonight with me? I believe I could obtain two tickets and the arena is not far from our hotels.”

It wasn’t what he said; it was how he said it. I was stunned. In his direct, inimitable style, this Vulcan male was asking me out on a date! When the hell had I given him the impression that would be acceptable to me? 

“Sorry,” I said bluntly. “I’m not interested in sports.” And I turned around and walked away from him, feeling as if everyone’s eyes were on me. 

The rest of that afternoon passed in a blur. The words of the lecturer went right over my head as I sat and thought about what I’d just experienced. 

How had he known? What clues had I given that had prompted Spock’s words? I spent a little time wondering if I’d misinterpreted him, but one thing I’ve learned in my rise in the business world is to trust my evaluation of people and events. I’d instantly realized that his invitation had not been platonic. 

So, how had he…. My eyes strayed to where he was seated in front of me, and then I averted my gaze quickly. I’d only ever dated women, only ever kissed them, only ever bedded them, and expertly, too, but I’ve known from the time I was a teenager that men were attractive to me as well. I’d wondered if I was bi-sexual and hadn’t done a thing to discover if that were the case. My fantasies…. Well, usually I was so caught up in a relationship with a woman that I didn’t have time nor need nor energy for fantasies, but when I indulged in some solitary self-love, my imaginings were just as likely to center on a man with a rampant cock and desire in his eyes as a woman eager for me to penetrate her. 

I’d run away from Spock’s invitation as if I were a thirteen year old virgin terrified at the thought of her first encounter, and I burned with mortification. Why hadn’t I been polite and simply told him I wasn’t interested, so that we could then continue our interesting conversations? Why hadn’t I laughed and made a joke of it, saying that he’d mistaken me for one of the women in the room? Why hadn’t I…why hadn’t I….

Why hadn’t I taken this opportunity to find out if what I’d always suspected about my sexuality was really true? Had I ever met another man who’d interested me as Spock did? 

By the time the evening rolled around, I was alternately kicking myself for a missed opportunity and being really glad that I wasn’t dealing with my first encounter with a man that night. I’d been invited to a dinner party by one of the fellows fairly high up in Ferris’s administration, whom my company dealt with on a regular basis, and I gratefully dressed for the evening, called a taxi, and lost myself in the social inanities of the evening. Hell, I could have simply told Spock I had another engagement planned, which had the merit of being truthful. 

The next day was Saturday and we didn’t have any sessions scheduled. I had intended to look up an old friend of mine who lived in the capital, see if he could spend some time doing the tourist bit and then maybe lunch or dinner. I had three friends in Jefferson, actually, any of whom would have been satisfactory company that day, but I didn’t call any of them. Instead I decided that after the forced socializing of the previous week, I’d spend the day on my own. I wandered around the capital’s more or less majestic buildings, then ducked into a museum that told the story of the emigration of humans from Earth to this outer band of the Milky Way and the long isolation we’d endured after that because of the Klingon wars. Earth was still recovering from that savage time, and while her populace had taken the brunt of the assaults, we’d been able to develop our own ways and our own confederation. I was proud of that, proud of what my people had accomplished, and I was able to more or less ignore my discomfort over what had happened with Spock. 

I walked back towards my hotel in late afternoon, abstracted and just a little tired. I wasn’t a man suited to solitude and I knew it. Had my choice for the day’s activities been a form of self-flagellation? Ah, the hell with it. I wasn’t a man given to abstraction, either. Okay, so I’d messed up, although I still hadn’t exactly decided in what way I’d messed up: whether in the way I’d said no or in not saying yes. But it was over and done with. 

I looked around me at the bright sunshine for which Jefferson is famous, I felt the light breeze, and I saw….

…a little delicatessen tucked between two larger establishments, and just coming out the deli’s door was my Vulcan acquaintance.

We saw each other at the same time, and though there should have been awkwardness between us, there really wasn’t. I was glad to see him. I advanced with my hand outstretched. “Spock! It’s good to see you.”

His lips gave a little movement at one corner, almost as if he were restraining a smile, and then he said, “You have forgotten that Vulcans do not…” here he reached out and grasped my hand, “…normally shake hands, but I am pleased to do so with you.” 

Ah. I hadn’t lost a budding friendship after all. We shook hands, and his was startlingly warm against my palm. I realized I had never touched someone who wasn’t human before. 

“Is this the deli you talked about before?” 

“Indeed it is. I have procured some sustenance for the birds.” He lifted a small brown bag.

“The birds?” I asked blankly.

“There is a park with a lake not far from here, and I intend to spend some time feeding the aquatic fowl. My cousin recommended the activity to me from when she was here last autumn.”

“Oh,” I said. 

“How have you been spending your day?”

“Not doing much of anything. A couple museums. And you?”

“The same. I also had a lunch appointment with the assistant commissioner of public works.” 

So Spock had been hard at work for his firm while I’d been moping about the city. “Any luck?”

He nodded. “Possibly. I do not expect immediate results. These things take time. However, the initial contact has now been made, and we will bid for the next suitable contract.” 

“Good luck to you. I need to get off my rear and do the same.” 

“I will be happy to assist you on my planet when you are ready for similar activity.”

“Thanks, I’ll take you up on that.” We’d started walking during our conversation. “Is the lake this direction?” 

“It is.”

“Mind if I tag along?”

There were those crinkling eyes again. Yes, that was his version of a smile, I was sure of it. 

“I would be pleased with your company,” he said, as formally as if we were at an official function, but I liked how he said it. The words, the tone suited him, just as it suited me to walk a few blocks with him to the lake his cousin Emily had found, to sit on a bench next to him with the sun over our shoulders, and to spend half an hour talking. 

Don’t ask me what we talked about. Not politics this time. About the progress of the seminar, the attitude of the government officials we’d encountered, the natural history museum that we discovered we’d visited at almost the same time that day. That first impression I’d formed of him on the first day of the course was strengthened: I enjoyed talking to him.

And, most important, he didn’t make a move. Towards me, that is. He threw grain towards the ducks and the geese, but he didn’t throw me any lines, any invitations, or anything else that might have made me feel uncomfortable. 

My Vulcan is a clever fellow.

When the birds had exhausted all we had to give them, he left, saying he had a dinner date. I spent a startled moment wondering with who, and whether that was a business type date or a friendly type date or an altogether different kind of date, and then I wished him good evening and watched him walk away. He has a silhouette that marks him as unmistakably Vulcan: tall and lean, with a smooth stride, and a somewhat narrower waist than most humans have. 

Once he was out of sight I heaved myself up from the bench and went to call José Mendez, one of those friends from my college days. He was happy to meet me for dinner with his new wife, and the three of us spent a pleasant evening together. I felt back in balance, with the world properly in order. 

I’m not much of a church-going man, so though I was tempted to skip the trip to the Planetary Cathedral that had been arranged for us, I didn’t have anything else to do on Sunday morning, and so I spent the morning in services that I hadn’t attended since I was a kid. The building itself was impressive, and I didn’t really regret going. There was a good lunch afterwards, too. The board was really pulling out all the stops for us, as I had slowly realized, and they were determined to do everything they could to encourage us to establish the interplanetary trade that our new union really needed. 

When I got back to my hotel room, there was a light blinking, indicating I had a message waiting, audio-only.

“This message is intended for James Kirk. Jim, this is Spock. If you receive this message on Sunday afternoon before five, please contact me so I may speak to you.” There was a discernible pause. “Thank you. Good-bye.”

I stared at the unit inset into the desk, and I knew what he wanted to talk to me about. 

I stalked over to the window that only offered a view of another high-rise building on the opposite side of the street. This time I had the chance to decide and handle it well. How to respond to what I was sure would be another invitation? 

I spent all of twenty seconds contemplating, maybe less than that. I’d always been one to learn from my mistakes, and I’d also always gone with my gut instincts. I activated the screen and after only a few seconds Spock’s face appeared. I might have been wrong, but at the time I thought I saw his features soften when he saw who was calling him.

“Hello, Spock? I’m returning your call.”

“Thank you for doing so. Have you enjoyed your day so far?”

“It’s been fine. I went to the cathedral service and then the reception.”

“Am I correct in assuming you are not conventionally religious?”

This was one perceptive guy. And he wasn’t afraid to ask questions others would normally shy away from. “That’s right. But I did enjoy seeing the cathedral. You should take it in while you’re here. It’s impressive.”

“On your recommendation, I will attempt to do so, although we have only six days remaining of our stay in Jefferson. Jim, I understand that you are not interested in sports.”

I chuckled a little, even though my heart rate accelerated. This was a totally weird sensation, talking to Spock like this and pretty much knowing what was coming next. “You’ve got that right.”

I could tell he was choosing his words carefully. “Perhaps, then, you are more interested in theater. There is a production of “A Touch of the Poet” by Eugene O’Neill at the Kendall Center this evening. I have procured two tickets, and I invite you to share the experience with me.” 

There it was, that same unmistakable invitation. I was at least prepared for it this time and could respond any way I chose to. 

“I’d be happy to join you, Spock,” I said. “On one condition.”

One of his eyebrows lifted. I’d seen him do that a few times before. The action, and the expression that went with it, transformed his face in a good way, making him appear more animated. More open. I was charmed. I really did like this guy. 

“And what is your condition?”

“You can take me out to the play, but I get to take you out to dinner afterwards.”

“That would be an acceptable arrangement,” he said, but I could tell that he was gratified. “I will look forward to this evening.”

“Your hotel is closer to the Kendall than mine is. How about if I walk on over and pick you up at…. What time is the play?”

“It begins at seven-thirty this evening.” 

“Okay, then I’ll pick you up in your hotel lobby at six-fifty, how’s that?”

“Not literally, I hope.”

“What?”

There were those dancing eyes; he was amused. “I hope you will not literally be picking me up. Although I am slender by human standards, Vulcan physiology is dense. I believe I outweigh you, Jim.”

What a sneaky fellow he was, creating that first image in my mind of our bodies pressed together, me with my arms around him trying to get him off the ground…. It wasn’t unwelcome. 

I laughed out loud. “And I’m strong, Spock. I’ll see you in a few hours. Kirk out.” 

Sitting next to a person in a darkened theater, it’s a strangely intimate and yet distancing experience. I felt the contradictions keenly that night, more than any other time I’d gone with a woman to see a show. How close you sit to the other person—to the barely-perceived warmth of a Vulcan body, a male body—and yet how little communication can take place in the typical way of speech. I’d felt totally comfortable meeting Spock and walking over, talking about interesting, important subjects as was the way that had sprung up between us immediately. But once seated next to him in the dark…. 

Once, in the middle of the second act, I felt the pressure of his long thigh against my own. For just a few seconds. Then it was gone, and I was left to wonder if I was imagining things. 

Because I was imagining things. Wondering how far I was going to take this evening. As far as my fantasies? As far as answering the question that had teased my mind since I was a teenager? 

Don’t ask me what that play was about, I’d have to go look it up on the ’net to find out—or ask Janice to do it for me, since I’m a busy man—but when it was over I was relieved. The play had been Spock’s, but the dinner was mine. 

The evening was fair, just a little springtime cool, and the restaurant that the concierge at my hotel had helped me pick out was half an hour’s stroll away down the wide sidewalks of the planetary capital. We were in the middle of the tourist area, and there were still plenty of people around, intent on wringing the last minute of their sightseeing time from the night. 

I remember that walk with Spock vividly: the way he turned towards me as we talked, the occasional fluid motion of his hands as he made a point, the increasing mobility of his eyebrows. How he cracked subtle jokes—oh, all right, maybe not jokes, but small comments that amused the heck out of me—with a totally straight face. The way the navy blue semi-formal jacket he was wearing fit his slim build well, and yet how I was still aware of his well-formed shoulders. His long-fingered hands. 

I remember that dinner as…an evening out of time, dislocated from the rest of my life and dream-like. I might have been able to pretend during the play and during the walk that this was just a friend with me and we were killing time, out for a few laughs, but the reality of Spock as a physical person had been impressed on me in the theater—the warmth of that thigh—and now I looked across the table at him in the flickering candlelight—I’d picked what could only be called an intimate, romantic restaurant, and what signal was I sending to my new-found companion with that?—and all sorts of strange emotions stirred in my chest. And my body stirred. Yeah, for the first time in the Café Capri, somehow whatever bonds I had placed on my body in the presence of other men just disappeared. I looked at Spock’s face in the candlelight, listened to his velvet voice, and I experienced the first physical stirrings of true desire for a man. 

Our conversation dwindled for the very first time as we were waiting for the check. It was as if a stillness were being forced on us during this time of transition. I paid for the meal—he didn’t even try to contest me for the privilege—we got up and walked out into the nighttime air…and he reached to take my hand. 

I gripped him back hard, he returned the pressure, and a moment later he was walking rapidly towards a small stand of trees to the side of the restaurant, pulling me with him. It was late, almost midnight, there wasn’t anyone around, and in this I could not be the leader. But I thought I wanted to follow….

He stopped abruptly in the deep shade and, with our hands still linked, turned to face me. I could barely see his face even with a streetlight spilling white light onto the pavement just outside our circle of darkness. 

“Jim,” he said hoarsely. “May I kiss you?”

It’s what I’d come this evening to do, to kiss Spock, to kiss a man, and I wasn’t going to say no. I reached out and grabbed the back of his head and pulled him towards me. He might have wanted to kiss me, but I would kiss him. 

He came towards me eagerly, and with the touch of his lips he stepped up to press his body solidly against mine. So many sensations at once. His strong, assertive lips that I barely experienced because he went immediately into a full, open-mouthed contact, and his tongue plunged into my mouth. I wasn’t in control at all, not as I’d wanted, not as I’d somewhat hazily planned, and especially not as he moved against me, as his hands gripped my shoulders hard, and as I experienced for the first time the heaviness between another man’s legs, stiffening in desire for me. 

It was too much too soon, and even as I was gathering myself to reject him, he sensed it. I didn’t have the opportunity to push against his shoulders or wrest myself away, because he did the deed for me and took a sudden and complete step back. 

But he still had hold of my hand. “Forgive me,” he said, and there was a lot of expressive emotion in the voice that was normally so even. “I have…. I had not intended…. Jim, am I correct in assuming that you are not normally the sex partner of another male?”

Well, one of the things I liked about Spock was how direct he was, and standing there in the dark holding his hand, half-decided that the evening was over and he would be going home alone, despite the uncomfortable bluntness of his question I warmed to him again. It might have been a little bit of pride, too…. Spock definitely wanted me. The only question was whether I wanted him. 

I took a step nearer to him, and that brought our fronts up close enough to brush against each other. I flexed my fingers against his. “I’m willing to learn, Spock. Just…go slower.” 

“As had been my intention,” he whispered. “But you are quite desirable. May I kiss you again?”

“I have a better idea,” I returned softly. “Let me kiss you.”

A much better idea. I disengaged my hand from his and took his face between my palms. Joined our lips. This time I kept the contact between us delicate, closed-mouth, and he cooperated, holding himself still except for the grip he had on my elbows and the expressive molding of his lips to mine. 

This time I could experience it. His lips were soft but definitely a man’s. I could feel the leashed power in them, and even in this most elementary of sexual contacts between us I could sense his reined-in desire. This Spock from Marius III…. He’d be a tiger in bed. 

And me? Truth be told I was much more immersed in my own reactions, evaluating them, than I was lost in him. This kiss…. Oh, yes. It felt right. It didn’t feel foreign or repulsive or emasculating, as I’d feared it might. Just another aspect of who I was, a sexual person who could appreciate any being if they meshed with my spirit, no matter their gender. 

No, not any being. Spock was not any being. My emotions began to swell as I contemplated the fact that I was not kissing just a man, but this man. Spock was the one who had opened these mysteries I had long held hidden. And I would ask his help in opening more dusty doors inside me. 

I opened my mouth to him. He gave a little sound of approval, of appreciation, and his hands on my elbows tightened and then released, but he restrained himself and allowed me to take the lead. So it was my tongue that snaked inside and touched his. 

If I had thought I was aroused before, this was an act that brought more of my walls tumbling down. I growled and wrapped my arms around him, and I plundered his mouth with all the sexual energy that came roaring up from my center. He took my enthusiasm as permission to respond in kind, and I’m glad in the next few minutes that nobody walked by to witness the two of us trying to climb inside each other’s skin through the connection of our lips and tongues and mouths. It wasn’t exactly the image that I try to project for my company, but at the time I was past caring.

Finally, it was Spock who pulled back. Me, I think I would have stayed there a lot longer kissing him, because it was all so new to me, and I was relishing every moment, every movement that was a declaration and an act of freedom.

He grabbed me around the waist as he asked me, “Come back to my hotel room with me? Our behavior is unsuitable already for a public area. Please, Jim.” 

It’s a good thing his room wasn’t any further or I probably would have chickened out. During the next thirty minutes as we walked across the city, as my arousal ratcheted down to simmer, I had plenty of time to wonder what the hell I’d gotten myself into. Did I really know this man? I’d heard Vulcans were a lot stronger than humans, and I’d felt evidence of that already in the way Spock had touched me, had held me. I could be forced when I wasn’t willing…. 

When we made our silent way up in the elevator and then along the empty hotel corridor, I was still wondering, but I was also determined. I told myself to trust my first instincts, and they had proclaimed that Spock was a good and honorable being. And the thought of continuing our kissing and moving to his bed propelled me, too. Except, to hell with the kissing, because as soon as the door was closed behind us I was on him, almost as if I were a person separate from myself. I hadn’t known I was going to almost-attack him right away, that I was going to roughly pull his jacket down his arms, that I would push him back against the wall next to the bed and start to unbutton his shirt, that I was going to lean down to his hairy chest—straight from my fantasies, yes—and press the side of my face against its rough masculinity. 

I hadn’t known that I would cooperate with his ragged breathing and his hands that were taking off my shirt, or that I’d throw my head back and let him suck-kiss along the length of my neck, or that then I’d make a needy, glorious sound and with a sudden, desperate motion press my hand against his cock through his trousers. First time: a hard cock against my palm. I curled my fingers around it to define its shape and desperately wanted to feel it skin to skin. What would it look like, I suddenly wondered. A Vulcan’s cock. 

Spock was talking to me, and it actually took an effort of will for me to reorient to process his words. The curtains in his room were open, and plenty of light from the city spilled in so I could see his face clearly. This was the look of him aroused, energized by sexual need…and as honorable as I had thought he was.

“Jim, we do not have to…. You…you have not done this before? With a man?”

I shook my head. “First time. But—”

“We do not need to do anything that you are not comfortable with. We can stop here,” I saw the effort it took him to say that, and his cock gave a small throb of dissent against the hand I held on him, “and that will be acceptable to me.”

“Stop at this? I want….” I was going to say that I wanted to go to bed with him, but I realized I wasn’t exactly sure what that would mean to him, an experienced lover-of-men as I surmised him to be. How far did I want to go and what acts could I contemplate? So I released my hold on his cock, took his chin between my fingers, and looked into his deep, dark eyes. “I don’t know what I want, Spock. This really is all new to me. You’re new to me, we’re new to each other. But….” I kissed him then, a slow, thorough kiss that after a few moments had him literally sagging back against the wall, I think because of how hard it was for him to rein in his desire. His palms went flat against the wall, too, not clutching or holding me. 

I pulled back and whispered, “Let’s see how far we take this. I’m not making any promises, okay? Can you deal with that?” 

“Oh, yes,” he breathed. “Whatever you can give. We will go slowly.” 

He took me to bed then, or maybe I was the one who took him. Over the next hour I learned that a man’s body was the same as and different from a woman’s, as Spock and I explored each other. We settled next to one another on the bed, with our pants still on, and I reached for him. 

I loved touching him. He was as sensitive as a cat, with his body arching one way as I drew my hand down his side or another way when I leaned down to kiss him. His face softened in the muted light, and I paused for a moment over him, just to look down into the face that I had thought always looked one way and now I discovered could transform into longing, into caring, into some expression looking back at me that was so glorious, so soul-stirring that I was afraid to use any words to define it.

Yeah, I learned I really liked touching him. My Vulcan acquaintance. Awfully nice to caress him in bed. His skin tasted great, too.

I loved having him touch me. He had artist’s hands, or maybe musician’s, for they weren’t hard and forceful or rough and painful as I had almost-feared, but certain, considerate, and seeking. I discovered in only the first five minutes that he wasn’t set on a quick roll in the hay or on only satisfying himself; he lay with me as a true lover, intent on learning about me and my needs. He was successful. He provoked pleasure everywhere he touched me. 

Spock’s nipples were as sensitive as any other lover’s I had ever had, and he learned that mine weren’t too responsive. I learned how the tips of his ears felt in my mouth, and that he trembled to have them sucked. He found the spot between my shoulder blades that, unaccountably, was extremely sensitive and, when caressed, sent shivers all through my body. Carol had rarely spent as much time there as I wanted her to. 

But there’s only so much you can do above the waist when you’ve got two male libidos screaming for completion, and we reached the point where we were both gasping. My cock had been hard since we’d gotten horizontal, and though I hadn’t repeated my bold caress of his, I was sure he was suffering from unfulfilled desire, too. 

I circled one of his nipples with a fingertip. “Spock,” I whispered. I discovered I liked the sound of his name on my tongue. “Why don’t you take off your pants?”

“And you?” he whispered back.

“I…don’t think so. Just you. Okay?”

“As you wish.” 

That had been one of my fantasies, watching a man expose himself to me, and I was dry-mouthed as Spock unzipped his pants and wriggled them and his briefs down off his legs and then over the side of the bed. For a brief moment I was almost dizzy, too, as he lay back for my inspection, his cock raised proudly in the air. I was in bed with a completely naked man who had…. I leaned in closer to make sure. His cock was different, not exactly like mine, with something more elaborate at the head of it. Double ridges. That close, I inhaled the distinct odor of his arousal, and I liked it. Damn, I liked everything about this man. And his cock drew me. I put my mouth around it and tasted. 

But only for a few seconds, because I’d pushed my bedmate too far. With a cry out loud he placed a big hand on my head, pushed up into my mouth just once, and ejaculated fiercely. 

I’d never had a man’s cock there, much less had him erupt against my tongue so unexpectedly and before I’d had a chance to adjust to such a strange sensation. I pulled back with the first bitter squirting, despite Spock’s undoubtedly instinctive efforts to keep me exactly where I was. There was a short tussle as I exerted my strength against his, and then he released me and grabbed himself, stroking the last few spurts from his column. 

He subsided against the bed, and I wiped my mouth against the corner of the sheet. I’d tasted my own cum before and hadn’t liked it much. Spock’s was about the same as what I remembered, maybe a little less strong in flavor. I looked down at the smear on the sheet, and a thrill shot straight through me. He’d basically shot off in my mouth. I’d done that for him.

I settled on my elbow next to him, and he turned his head towards me from where he rested against the fluffy white hotel pillow. He was endearingly still out of breath. “I…did not expect to achieve orgasm so quickly. I know you were not prepared for that. I apologize.” 

I smiled at him and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “That’s all right. No harm done.”

His gaze traveled the length of my body, to where my pants were still distended with my bulging erection. “May I…return the favor?”

I was on the verge of denying any need when he seemed to guess what I was going to say. “Please, allow me to give you pleasure.”

“Tit for tat?”

“You imply an obligation,” he said seriously. “But I wish to do this for you.” 

Spock would never say anything he didn’t mean, I had the feeling. 

So I lay down beside him. I unzipped my pants but he was the one who pulled them off to drop them to the floor. I had a moment of real embarrassment as he came up next to me and looked down at my cock. But then he touched me with just the tip of one of his long fingers, and I saw my own pre-cum glistening as he swirled it around my cockhead. I gasped, I thrust up through his circling hand, and any hesitation I’d felt disappeared in my overwhelming arousal. God, his hand on me felt good. I was lost. 

He stroked me expertly for more than a minute as I heaved and shuddered and wheezed, but it wasn’t until he did for me what I had done for him—leaned down and took me in his mouth—that I rocketed into such an instant and total orgasm that I thought my heart was going to jump right out of my chest. He didn’t jerk away but instead went down on me even further and swallowed. The feeling of his mouth moving against me, taking my cum inside of him…it was indescribable. The best sexual sensation I’d ever had. 

I relaxed back against the bed, trying to make some sense of a world that had been turned on its head, trying to recognize my body as my own, and many long seconds passed when I realized that Spock hadn’t come up to join me. I looked down at where he still was crouched over me, my softening cock in his mouth, and I think he was waiting for my attention. Because then he carefully released me—trust another man to really understand about after-sex sensitivity—and then slowly, beautifully, pressed a kiss to my belly, just to the side of my navel. Then another kiss a little higher up, and another, and another, until finally he reached my face. He paused and looked down on me, his eyes shining. 

I touched his cheek, then traced the curve of his eyebrow that looked so right on this alien man. I wanted to say something, there were words on my tongue and thoughts in my backbrain and a wealth of emotions roiling in my chest, but nothing was coherent, nothing seemed rational. So I remained silent and instead pulled him down to me. He rested against my chest as if we were old lovers, as if we’d known each other for years. 

I stroked his hair that lay in such perfect strands, and I touched his ear, and I told myself that of course my first sexual encounter with another male would be wonderfully exciting. That was to be expected. The eroticism of the completely new and different. I told myself I might have seduced Mo from the seminar and felt this way, but I didn’t believe it.

Our silence went on for quite a while, long enough for me to doze, as I often do after lovemaking, and then awaken to find that Spock was asleep with his head pillowed on my chest and my arm wrapped around him. I glanced at the clock on the desk across the room; it was one-thirty in the morning. A new morning for me, I thought. 

He awakened a little later, though I tried not to disturb him. “You are well?” he asked, not moving at all. 

“I’m fine,” I said softly. 

“I am not completely Vulcan,” he said abruptly. “I am half-Vulcan. My mother is human.” 

What an odd revelation to make. It was a little surprising to hear, because I’d been working under the assumption that he was a typical Vulcan, but it didn’t seem important. 

“Okay,” I said reasonably. “I guess that accounts for the smiles.”

He slid off me onto his side and tucked his hands under his head to regard me. “Smiles?” he asked, and there was one in his eyes right then, plus a more definite quirking to his lips than I’d witnessed before. “What smiles?”

“You fake,” I accused, and then I poked him in the side.

He said “oomph” and tried to grab my hands, but I was too quick for him. Instead I rolled over on top of him and pushed down hard on his upper arms, and he subsided under me.

“Jim,” he said in that way he had. “Thank you for this evening. I hope you have enjoyed yourself.” 

“I think you know I have.” 

“Then…. I welcome you to stay for the rest of the night.”

The last sexual encounter I’d had, I’d escaped as soon as I could because all I’d wanted was some relief for my body and I’d gotten it. Now, I wanted to stay. It suddenly dawned on me that we were skin to skin for the very first time, my cock against his cock, even if they were currently uninterested in each other. 

“All right.” I grinned down at him, and I gave a little thrust. “Think if we rest a little we might be able to do this again?” 

He groaned elaborately then—more of his being half-Vulcan?—and shook his head. “I would like nothing better,” he admitted, and he pulled me down for a searing kiss. “You are inflaming,” he whispered against my lips. “I do not think we will need to wait very long.”

We waited three hours, as a matter of fact, and then we reached very satisfactory climaxes by pushing against each other, each of us on our sides, my hand around his waist and his anchoring me with fingers spread against my ass. I watched him as he orgasmed, and when it happened to me, I surrendered to him looking at me, too. But before that happened, we talked. 

About everything and nothing: about the play we’d seen and the food we’d eaten and our classmates at the seminar and about his mother and Janice my bossy secretary and my hopes of expanding Kirk Express and his dream of expanding Geodynamic Surveys and the difficulty of doing business against the big boys and the rewards of seeing your own company grow and how I’d really liked the taste of his skin and how he had been surprised by my hairless chest but thought he could get used to it. 

I awakened to him shaking my shoulder. “Jim, it is six-thirty in the morning and you should return to your hotel for a change of clothing. We are to be addressed by the secretary of trade today.” 

I’d fallen asleep right after our second lovemaking, but even so we’d barely gotten two hours of rest and I felt groggy. “Right,” I said. The sun had risen and the room was filled with the soft yellow light of dawn, and everything looked different. The warm cocoon of the room was just an ordinary hotel room, more than a little sterile; the mounded sheets and blanket were rumpled and stained here and there. My clothes scattered on the floor were wrinkled. I was reluctant to put them on even for the short walk to my hotel. 

But there was Spock sitting up in bed watching me as I used his bathroom and then put on my clothing. He had pulled the sheet up to his waist and looked sexy and ordinary and tempting and appealing and appalling all at the same time. 

“You are having second thoughts about what you have done this night,” he observed quietly. 

What was it with this guy, did he read minds? “No,” I quickly denied. “I’m just not very good in the mornings. Look, I’ve got to go or I’ll be late.” I stepped up next to the bed and forced myself not to hesitate as I gave him a swift kiss. “Thanks for everything. See you.”

The secretary of trade would have had to be a dynamite speaker to capture my attention that morning, and she wasn’t. I kept glancing over to where Spock sat. He looked as if he’d had a full night’s sleep and hadn’t just introduced a human male into the mysteries of same-sex. At least some of the mysteries. There was plenty more to learn. I don’t know what I looked like, probably like the thunderstruck person I was. 

I kept going over and over it. The velvet texture of his cock that one time I’d felt it against my tongue. The sounds he made when he came and the taste of his cum. The way he’d pushed against me that second time, unmistakably male in his thrusting but not hindering my own masculine needs that I was fulfilling at the same time. I guess that threw me a bit, as I’d thought that one partner in a male to male pairing had to be, well, passive. Assume a different role than the one I was accustomed to. But it hadn’t been that way with Spock, not at all. 

Spock joined the group I had lunch with, but he was quiet and sat at the other end of the table. Mo kidded me that I must have had a hot time of it that weekend, and I didn’t care enough about him or his opinion of me to confirm or deny it. 

That night President Ferris was hosting a big reception, bigwigs and political contributors and our small group of thirty all invited, and so I put on my formal wear and dutifully went through the receiving line, attacked the buffet table, dredged up enough energy to start talking with the undersecretary of interplanetary affairs so I could get basic information on the trade I wanted for Kirk Express, and didn’t seek out the man I’d slept with the night before. And Spock didn’t seek me out. Have I said before he was a clever man? He’s always swayed to my emotional currents. 

I slept the sleep of the utterly flummoxed that night and awakened a little before I needed to with an erection any man would be proud of. It took me all of five strokes before I exploded into orgasm, and I didn’t admit even to myself what—or who—was on my mind.

Before I left for that day’s session I got a call from José Mendez, who I’d dined with on Saturday. He was an important attorney in the city, affiliated with one of the largest firms, and he probably thought that he could get some business out of me. As I contemplated his invitation to attend an evening with some select clients at a select restaurant, I realized that I probably would need to expand my legal representation, and José specialized in off-world contacts. So I said, sure, I’d be happy to attend tonight. 

“Do you want to bring somebody with you?” he asked. “Plenty of room for more. But I need to know now so my secretary can confirm with the restaurant.” 

I didn’t plan it, it wasn’t my conscious intention to agree, but it seemed absolutely natural for me to say, “Okay. There’s a fellow I’ve met this past week. He’s president of a firm on Marius III. He’d probably be interested in the services you have to offer, too. Okay if he comes along? He’s Vulcan.”

“That’s fine,” José enthused. “Is there anybody else you’d like to invite from the seminar?” 

I couldn’t imagine it, so I said, “I don’t think so. Just Spock.”

“All right, two more to the list. I’ll see you both at Cambasi’s at seven, okay? Business attire will be fine.” 

I couldn’t imagine talking to Spock about this at the seminar, so when I left my hotel instead of turning towards the seminar building I turned the other way, towards the deli where I’d met him before. 

And there he was, standing at the end of the line for a take-out breakfast. I slipped up next to him, intending to surprise him, but he doesn’t miss much and was alert to my presence right away. 

“Good morning, Jim,” he said warmly.

“Hello yourself. What’s good for breakfast here?”

And just like that we settled back into the way we related to each other, as if my one day and night of distance hadn’t happened. As we walked to the seminar, sipping our morning coffee, I asked him to come with me to José’s fling, and I had the pleasure of seeing him actually smile. Just a small one, a quick curving of his lips that he cast down to the sidewalk and not to me before he smoothed his expression and said, “I would be most pleased to accompany you tonight.” 

There was a cocktail hour before dinner, and of course that was where all the connecting was being done. It was gratifying as always to be courted by powerful men intent on garnering my business. I guess that’s part of what propels people like me into starting a company and sticking with it. Spock and I, we knew how to play this game, and we circulated and conversed, we got the pertinent details as they related to our separate firms. I was in my easy, alert mode, and I laughed often. No laughter came from where Spock was in intent conversation with one legal rep after another across the room, because I was beginning to understand that those smiles were something special coming from him, but I know he was enjoying himself nevertheless. 

José—or probably José’s secretary—had seated us at separate tables for the meal, but that was fine, as I was pursuing a deal with one of the partners that would probably pay big dividends for Kirk Express in the future, and I wanted to concentrate on that. But later, after dinner, as we were all just standing around talking in that final part of any similar business evening, Spock came over and stood next to me. I was really glad he did that. It felt right. I wondered if anyone there assumed we were a couple and not just business associates. 

I was just beginning to think of what would come next—the expanse of a bed and the shape of Spock’s cock and the way a man moved during sex—when José pulled me aside and asked if I would stay a while afterwards to meet the managing partner of his firm, who was coming in for a drink in another half an hour. It was obviously a special invitation, a privilege, meant only for me, and I was flattered. And annoyed. But Kirk Express had to come first. I went back to Spock.

“I’m sorry, I won’t be able to leave with you. I’ve gotten an invitation from José ….”

Something flashed in his eyes, and I thought it was the same disappointment that I felt, expressed in his own unique way. “Of course. I understand.” 

“Spock, it’s for the business. You know I’d rather—”

“I do understand.”

I wasn’t going to let him go until I was absolutely certain that he perceived my interest in him. We weren’t just business associates, damn it, and we weren’t just fuck buddies, either. What he thought really mattered to me.

“Tomorrow. Are you free tomorrow night? We could—”

This time I was certain of it. Real disappointment flashed across his face. “I am sorry, I am committed to another engagement for the evening. A trade association meeting that should prove most valuable for Geodynamic Surveys.”

And that left just one more night, Thursday night, since on Friday afternoon I would be forced to get on the plane that would take me back home, and he’d be getting on a ship to travel back to his planet and his life. A strong surge of panic hit me. 

“Then Thursday. Right after the group adjourns. Dinner. Okay?” 

“Yes. Let us plan on Thursday. I will look forward to that.”

“Me, too. Really.” We stood there a bit awkwardly looking at each other, and then he said he had to leave, so I walked with him outside to the sidewalk and waited for a taxi with him. The impulse to touch him was there, to put a hand on his elbow or on the small of his back—that’s what I did with women, and I wondered how he would react to that. Maybe he had the same impulses. 

The taxi arrived, he turned to say good-bye, and I wanted to kiss him good-night in the worst way. Had I remembered the touch of his lips, their warmth, the way they really were? 

“Good-night, Jim.”

“Sleep tight, Spock.” 

And then he was gone and I went back inside to wait. We drank after-dinner drinks and I had to be careful how much I consumed, and then the managing partner was late. So it was past one in the morning when I got back to my hotel, and my vague idea of intruding into Spock’s night refused to take form. I’d let him sleep, get a good night’s sleep myself, and look towards Thursday. 

I awakened on Wednesday with my thoughts full of Spock. What did he really think of our single encounter and that evening that was assuming a special place in my memories? Was he anticipating Thursday with the same eagerness that I was? I wanted more of the sex, yes, but I recalled our conversations, the careful revelation that he was only half-Vulcan and then the meager, atypically shy comments about his mother. I wanted more of that, of the essential man that I had just barely begun to know. Spock wasn’t only the composed, competent business leader I’d met that first day, he was a lot more, and I was hungry for the depths of him. 

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and thought about depths. Yeah. Sex. Were we going to do that on Thursday, screw each other? I didn’t like that thought. I might have screwed a few women in my time, but I didn’t want to do the same with him. The way he’d looked at me after I’d arched into orgasm and the way I’d felt about him then…. People like that didn’t screw each other. They made love. 

I wanted to go to the deli again, for the food and for him, but the seminar group was meeting across town at the university this morning, and time was short. All for the off-world trade certification for Kirk Express. “I hope you appreciate it,” I muttered to no one in particular and set off for the day’s activities. 

Even at the new venue, the hours dragged on. I hadn’t kept in as close contact with the home office and Janice as I should have, so I skipped out in early afternoon to the university’s communications center to check in. It was a good thing I did, as just ten minutes before they’d received news that one of our planes had gone down in the mountains to the south. My first impulse was to jump out of my seat and take the first flight to the site, but within minutes our pilot was radioing in that she and the co-pilot were okay but that the plane had burst open and the cargo had strewn across a small area. Most of the payload was for our second largest customer, and I was determined not to give them an excuse to leave for one of our competitors. I spent the entire rest of the afternoon coordinating recovery from the comm center, then I grabbed a quick bite and went right back to my directing and monitoring. It was eleven at night before I finally relinquished my seat and headed for the hotel again, satisfied that I’d initiated damage-control as best I could and that the good name of Kirk Express wouldn’t be sullied because of an unexpected downdraft that had forced our plane to the ground. Thank God at least no one had been hurt. 

As I got ready for bed that night, I realized that the crash had sobered me and blunted the euphoria I’d been riding since that tumultuous night with Spock. It brought me back to the real world that he and I would be rejoining soon. The seminar, after all, was an anomaly in my life, and it would be over in just another day and a half. What Spock and I were sharing…it might be real, but was it wise for me to pursue it, considering how my emotions had been so engaged? I was truthful with myself: something powerful was happening between him and me, and I was headed for disappointment if I didn’t realize that it had no future. The future was my office in Fulton Town across the planet. His future was on Marius III. Thursday night was just…Thursday night. That’s it.

And…I resolved as I crawled into bed and then set the alarm, it was going to be great. If that’s all I was going to get of him, then I’d take it with pleasure and clear eyes. And it would start with breakfast. 

We had breakfast together at the deli. And then lunch at the same table we’d shared before in the cafeteria. When the class fell out into smaller groups, we made sure we were in the same one. And when five o’clock came around and we were finally set free for the day, he walked with me back to my hotel to wait for me while I showered and changed clothes. Then I went with him to his hotel while he did the same. 

Not once during that time did I touch him, and he didn’t reach for me. It was a sweet agony, standing in the shower stall naked knowing he was on the other side of the wall, and then performing the same sentry duty for him while he showered. We hadn’t discussed it, but it seemed both of us wanted to wait for the sex. I know I was desperately eager for his company, just to talk to him, to listen to him, to spend time with him, and I guess he felt the same way. 

We went out to a casual local restaurant, took our time having drinks—he claimed to enjoy alcohol without having it affect his metabolism—and then were leisurely over dinner. If I could describe the pleasure of his company that night, just sitting across from his expressive eyes, I’d be a poet laureate and a best selling author, too. I felt like there was something tangible in the air between us, something each of us touched constantly that gave us…what would you call it? Happiness? I was exactly where I wanted to be. God, he was gorgeous. Long and lean and utterly masculine, with a full lower lip and a defined nose and sparkling eyes and hidden strength that I had felt in his arms and fingers. And his voice. I got a lot of pleasure just listening to his voice. 

We strolled over to the open-air theatre at the center of the tourist district, rented a blanket, and then found a spot on the lawn where we could hear the concert that was just starting. The sun was setting as the music began, and I reached for his hand. So warm. Just right in mine. 

What was I thinking? 

Don’t think, I told myself fiercely. Just feel. This is the last night, the last night you’ll have with him. I turned towards him and he turned towards me, and we gently kissed, our first one of the night. There were couples and families and friends out for a nice night of music under the stars all around us, and nobody cared that we kissed. But I did. His lips were music. 

Spock.

I was conscious of only two things during that concert: his presence next to me and the minutes ticking away. The symphony was just background noise to the tumultuous beating of my heart, and after a while I began to resent its intrusion into the evening. If I had just this one night…. I wanted all of Spock and all of his attention. 

I leaned over to whisper in his ear and couldn’t resist nuzzling it, too. “Let’s leave.” 

I didn’t need to say anything else; he stood and we folded up the blanket and slipped away. 

But still not back to the hotel and privacy. He took my hand this time and asked, “Will you walk with me tonight?” 

The words, they sounded as if they were ritual and had another meaning beneath the surface. I said, “Let’s walk.”

For more than an hour we found our way around the monuments, the museums, and the government buildings that were the heart of the downtown district where we’d been staying. It was completely dark by then, and the many small trees that lined the pathways and dotted the green spaces swayed in the nighttime breeze. The sky was clear, with as many stars visible as ever are in an urban setting. We stopped once and looked up, our hands still clasped. He pointed out Eridani, where his people had emigrated from more than two hundred years before. We looked at Sol together, where a colony of humans had left three hundred years ago, headed for the fertile world of Giria on which we now stood. Where I’d met him. 

We stopped again in front of the building where we’d had most of our classroom sessions, and there in the moonlight I kissed him. Then he kissed me back, and then some more…. 

Is this, I thought, dizzied in his arms, how men conducted their affairs? I didn’t think so. I hadn’t expected this descent into soft emotion, this need I had for him. I’d thought male to male affairs were most often casual, brief, without complications or explanations. But with Spock, nothing was as I had thought it would be.

It was as if we were united in postponing the moment of intimacy. When our lips finally parted, we agreed to head for the bar of my hotel for a drink, and we did that. 

We’d started our time of togetherness at 5 p.m. on Thursday afternoon; it was more than six hours later that I finally led the way back to my room. 

Could Sunday have been just four days before? Could we have had just that one sexual encounter? I remembered how uncertain I’d been then and my ridiculous thoughts about whether I could trust Spock or not. I felt now that I could trust him with…anything.

We fell on each other like starving men as soon as the door closed. “Got to have you,” I gasped, just as he was saying, “Immediately, Jim.” His hands were on my shirt buttons with lightning speed, and I was pulling his shirt from out of his pants and then up over his head. Yes, there was that man’s chest I wanted, that I’d been carrying an image of in the back of my mind for the last ninety-six hours. I ran the flat of my palms across his chest and then was forced away as he pulled my shirt down my arms and off to the floor. Then I was at his waistband, fumbling with the catch and the zipper, and I yanked his pants down to his ankles, got down to my knees, pulled his briefs down, too, and….

“And this,” I moaned, and then I opened my mouth for his rising cock. 

Without hesitation I took him in, though I’d never done this before except for that one small taste I’d had. I slid my tongue over his cockhead, desperately needing to define those double ridges and the silkiness of the skin, but equally desperate to have all of him in me, his length filling my mouth and tickling the back of my throat. 

Spock’s hands were on the back of my head, clawing through my hair, and he was making restrained, hunching moves with his hips, as if he were just barely managing to keep from thrusting full tilt into me. 

“Jim,” he was saying in a fervent tone I’d heard him use only once before. “Oh, Jim. Yes, please suck me.” 

I did. I loved having his bulk in my mouth, and I quickly fell into a rhythm that seemed to drive him wild, if his vocal encouragements and hands on me were any indication. Oh, yeah. Here I was, Jim Kirk the newly revealed, on my knees with my mouth stuffed full of cock and it was the best, the most exciting, the most natural thing in my universe…until we did the next thing. And the next. 

Because Spock didn’t come in my mouth. He pulled away with a huge inhalation. “You tempt me too much,” he said ardently, and then his hands were under my arms and pulling me up to him, where he kissed me and then threw me—yeah, threw me—onto the bed. 

A moment later he was on top of me and our cocks were meeting. I didn’t have a shred of resentment at being so manhandled—hey, he was a half-Vulcan, I’d known he was strong when I got into this, right?—and instead arched up to maximize our contact. I writhed beneath his weight. His cock slid right against mine and it was like the very first time I plunged into a woman’s pussy: completion, rightness, and something I wanted to do over and over again. 

“Yes!” I exulted, and I heaved upwards. 

“Yes!” he hissed, and he matched my thrusting with his own. 

It could have ended right there, just like it could have ended with me on my knees in the entranceway to the room, and we thrust wildly against one another a few times. But this time I was the one who managed to come up with a shred of sanity. “No,” I moaned even as I rubbed against him. “Not so soon.” 

And he responded by sliding down the length of my body instead and capturing my cock in his mouth. 

Which didn’t do much for the level of my arousal but at least it was a different sort of stimulation. I looked down at where he was sucking me, and I think I actually did pass out for a few seconds, the sensation was so intense. Everything in the universe seemed to narrow with a huge thundering power down to one intense point: Spock’s lips around my cockhead, sucking and licking as if he knew exactly where I was most sensitive, for he’d applied whatever cues he’d gotten from me before in the most effective way possible. 

I shuddered from the top of my head to my flexing toes, and then I fell back against the pillow. “No,” I whispered, “no, I’m gonna come too soon, oh, Spock, that feels incredible, you have the best mouth….”

A second later and his face was over me. I reached up for his shoulders and savaged his mouth because I needed to. 

“Jim.” He was panting heavily, and his lips were a peculiarly deeper color, rose with a tint of green, and full from going down on me. “I do not think I can wait. Please, let us achieve completion now. Will you allow it?”

As if I could deny him anything that’s in my power to give him. And since postponing our need of one another looked to be a hopeless task, what could I say but a gasped out “Yes”?

He went down to my stiffness again, but this time he reversed himself so that his cock was within tantalizing reach. I’d done this with women before, sixty-nining, and I groaned as I rolled over towards him. I felt his lips closing around me just as I was licking his swollen crown with the full-flavor of pre-ejaculate bursting on my tongue. 

He tasted delicious. 

I lasted longer this time, though nothing to brag about. Maybe two minutes after we’d started on each other his spread fingers on my ass and the way he insisted on sliding the flat of his tongue across the tip of my cock finally pushed me over the edge. 

“Oh, God, Spock, I’m coming!” Even as delirious as I was with sensation, I had enough presence of mind to remind myself to concentrate, to really feel myself pumping into this incredible being who’d entered my life and taken over my devoted attention. 

If this was going to be the last orgasm I had in bed with Spock, I wanted to remember every second of it.

Of course, it was over in an instant, way too soon, and I subsided feeling satisfied and yet instantly desirous for more. Why couldn’t we do this all the time, have each other like this constantly?

I could still have him. He was literally trembling in my upside-down grasp of him, and his cock was tickling me under the chin. 

“Spock,” I growled, and I gently hefted his balls with my fingers.

“Yes, Jim?” he answered from the vicinity of my hips. 

“Do you want to come?” 

There was an audible swallow, and I imagined how that prominent Adam’s apple I’d noticed was bobbing up and down. “With you,” came the whispered reply. “With you.”

I’d barely gotten my mouth on him again when he was catching his breath with little heaves and a sort of whine of warning, and I knew he was awfully close. I was determined that this time I was going to take him in fully, so I plunged down as far as I could and then slowly sucked back up. 

_“Cental ve!”_ he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Jim, for you, I’m coming!” He thrust vigorously back and forth, almost dislodging me, but I was determined. A moment later and I tasted the first squirting of his ejaculation. I closed my eyes and just let it flow, let it flood my mouth with silky, creamy thickness. When he finished, I swallowed, just a little bit, and then slowly let the rest of it slide down my throat. 

Spock. 

I understood now why when I’d come in his mouth on Sunday—on Monday morning—he hadn’t immediately come back up to me. The impulse to just stay there with my lips surrounding his cock and the taste of his cum on my tongue was irresistible. It was like…I don’t know, I don’t want to sound blasphemous, but it was like a form of worship. 

_Thank you, Spock, for this. Thank you. You’re the only one who knows who I am._

I listened to the sound of his breathing, and I stroked his hip where my fingers had gripped him so hard I’d probably left marks. Did Vulcans bruise like humans did? So many things I didn’t know about him. So much I did know. 

He softened while in my possession, and even that was an experience I tucked away into my store of moments to be treasured. Eventually I released him and with a sigh he joined me on the pillow. 

“Jim,” he murmured and he stroked the side of my face. “Kiss me, please.” 

With so much pleasure, I did. 

“Tell me,” I whispered into our shared space, “about your mother. About your father. About growing up half-Vulcan in a Vulcan community. About your first lover. About the first year trying to make Geodynamics Survey a success. Tell me all.”

And he did. Over the next five hours we held each other, we caressed each other, we kissed each other, I lay in his arms, he lay in my arms, he crawled on top of me, I laid my body down on top of him, and we talked about every important event in our lives. He opened his life of effort and loneliness to me, and I shared with him the devastation of my mother’s death when I was just twelve, my constant striving to be a success in the business world, and the uncertainty I’d hidden deep about my desire for men. 

I’d been wrong about him. He wasn’t the suave, experienced lover-of-men I’d assumed him to be. He’d only had three other lovers in his life, though all of them men, for he wasn’t drawn to women at all. But the last one had been five years previously, and he hadn’t expected to seduce anyone during the seminar, much less be up at five in the morning laying bare the secrets of his soul.

“Then how come—” I was on top of him as he made this last revelation “—you seemed so sure of yourself with me. Almost as if sometimes you were—”

“—reading your mind? That is the attachment working.”

“The attachment?” 

“For Vulcans, sexual attraction of a certain kind is accompanied by the ability to…” his brow wrinkled as he sought the right words, “sense the moods and the needs of the partner.”

I wanted to ask him what he meant by “of a certain kind,” but I couldn’t, not then. The sun was going to be rising in about an hour and the minutes that had ticked away throughout the night were coming to an end. We were too close to the end of all this for me to force him to put into words what I knew existed between us and yet what I also knew we could not pursue. 

He was observing me carefully. “That does not…alarm you?”

I contemplated what he’d said. Basically it meant that Vulcans were more perceptive of their partners than most humans could be. And how could I object to what had enabled me to get over my skittishness and for us to come together?

“No, should it?”

Soberly, he said, “My second partner was human, and once I revealed that information to him he literally ran from the room without stopping to put on his clothing. I have been much more careful since then. But you….”

He reached up and ran his fingers down one cheek from my temple to my chin. “I have felt a particular affinity with you from the moment I saw you in the classroom.” 

I sighed and rested my head on his chest. “Me, too. I didn’t know why, but I practically couldn’t take my eyes off you that first day.”

“That is the attachment, Jim, operating on you as well as on me.” 

“I don’t care what you call it. I’m just grateful that it happened. That you happened to me.” 

His arms came up around me and hugged fiercely. “What have I done to deserve you? You are amazing.” 

“Not so amazing. I was confused in the beginning, not knowing if I wanted you or not.”

“I am glad that you came to the conclusion that you did. Jim?”

“Yes?”

“I would like to do one more amazing thing with you.”

I lifted my head so I could see him in this serious mode. “What?”

“I know I am your first male lover, and I know that later today we will leave each other. But…. You affect me so strongly. I have yearned for you, Jim.”

I knew what he was going to say, and already I was resolved to give him everything. I threaded my fingers through his bangs. “I yearn for you, too.” 

“Then…. Let us make love one more time. And let me penetrate you. If you wish, I will give you my body as well.” 

The question of coming inside of him that way…. I brushed it aside as unimportant. Sure, maybe. But giving this extraordinary man what he wanted was within my power, and I wanted to do that. 

“I don’t know much about how to do that,” I whispered.

“You have not penetrated one of your female lovers in that way?”

“I think anal sex was…too close to what I wanted with men to let me give it a try. Nope, I never did.” 

“I will go slowly,” he promised. “I will be gentle. You may stop me at any time.”

“I’m not going to want to stop you.” I kissed him then and thought about leaving in the afternoon for Fulton Town. “Let’s do this.”

He’d brought some lubricant with him, a tiny tube that was in the back pocket of his pants, but as I rolled over onto my back and he crouched over me, it seemed to be more than enough as he slathered it all over his jutting, rock-hard cock. I panted heavily just at the sight of him and was unbearably aroused. It’s a good thing he wasn’t spreading the cream over my cock, or I’d have jetted right then and there. 

I wasn’t afraid of the stretching or the burning that I’d heard accompanied anal penetration in the beginning. I was thinking instead of hellos and good-byes and wondering how I could ever touch another man after these days I’d spent with Spock. This was probably the last time I’d be doing this. 

“How?” I asked. “What…position?” 

“You have most arresting eyes,” he murmured, and he leaned down to kiss my eyelids, first one and then another. “I would wish to see you while we do this. Would it be acceptable to you to remain on your back and lift your legs over my shoulders?” 

Exactly what I would have said, for I did want to see him during all this. 

“Allow me to lubricate and stretch you. It is necessary especially this first time. Roll over onto your side.” His voice was trembling.

You’d think I would be embarrassed when his finger slid into me, and I’ll admit it was a most peculiar sensation, but I was fantasizing that it was his wonderfully shaped cock and not his finger, so instead I had to exhale in short, definite pantings to prevent myself from becoming over-aroused. I was awfully close to going right over the edge.

Having him enter me for the first time: wasn’t that what I’d been concerned about, the shifting of roles and the assumption of passivity? No, it wasn’t like that with him. I lifted my legs over his shoulders and exposed myself to him, all the while looking into his face, that dear, impassive-expressive face that now was taut with arousal and yet soft with desire. Dear God. Spock. 

Yes, it hurt at first, but not once did I utter a sound and I tried hard not to tense my body, and I didn’t close my eyes. Because watching him, seeing the pleasure he was taking even from the half-way entry he’d made, that was easing me and more than making up for any pain. 

“It will be better in a few moments. Try to relax, Jim.” 

He was right. When hadn’t he been right in the twelve incredible days I’d known him? 

“I’m all right. Go ahead.”

“No, another minute.” But even so he pushed forward a little more. 

And he felt good. No, perfect. “Spock!” I cried out, and that was it. He braced himself against the bed and began to pump into me. 

Emotions crowded into my throat. I…loved this. Loved being fucked. Yes, this strong, elegant creature with the dancing eyes was fucking me….

Making love to me. I loved it. I….

And how I felt was all wrapped up with the sensations of my body. The tidal wave of arousal that was swamping me brought with it the realization that every midnight dream I’d ever pretended I didn’t have was coming true. It was impossible not to reach for my own cock, even in this constricted position. I pumped myself, he saw what I was doing and in a strangled voice he said, “Yes, Jim! I….”

I’ll never know what he was going to say because in that moment orgasm overcame him, I could see it in his face and then, a moment later, feel it in my ass as he spurted his cum inside me.

What an incredible feeling. I grabbed hold of every sensation, each last lingering impression, and it wasn’t until I knew he was finished and holding himself up with a tremendous effort of will from collapsing down on me that I finally allowed my own climax to burst from between my restraining fingers. 

He lowered himself on top of me, clutching at me and seeking my lips. We rolled over onto one side, kissing, then over onto the other side, desperately stroking each other’s tongues and murmuring each other’s names. 

I fell asleep the moment I realized that, unaccountably, my cheeks were wet. 

The seminar was over at eleven in the morning that day. We got certificates and promises that our businesses were now cleared for any off-planet trading or services that we were able to procure for them. Spock’s shuttle left in two hours and my plane two hours after that. I went with him to the spaceport. 

“I will have occasion to come to Giria again. Perhaps in the autumn,” he said abruptly in the cab. “We can see each other again.”

I was numb. I hadn’t counted on this. What the hell had happened to me over the last two weeks? 

“I’ll be bringing Kirk Express to Marius. It might take a while, but we’ll be there. Within the year, I think.”

I could see that my assertion was no more consolation to him than his had been to me. In the autumn? A year from now? When my body had just discovered its true nature and my heart had…. I wasn’t going to admit what my heart knew, not even to myself. I’d exchanged one hidden secret for another. 

The cab pulled up to the curb and I walked with him to the gate, where his shuttle was already boarding. We’d barely talked since we’d awakened after our brief sleep, and I’d had to watch him leave for his own hotel room. I wasn’t sure I could watch him leave again.

In another minute he’d be gone. “Jim,” he said to me with a lyrical expression in his voice, with an attempt to really be open to me. “This is just the attachment working between us. Distance will mute its effect. Time will dull it. This will get easier.” 

My dear Vulcan acquaintance. He didn’t really understand the human side of things the way he should have. I mutely shook my head.

He put his carry-all bag down on the floor and took my shoulders in his hands. He searched my eyes. “Good-bye.”

Kissing him would just make everything harder. I wrenched myself out of his grasp and backed away from him. “Good-bye, Spock.” And then I turned and fled. 

Janice noticed it the first fifteen minutes I was back in my office. “So, what’s happened to you?” she asked. “You sure are quiet.”

Over the next three months I tried, I really did. I told myself that my first fling with another man would be followed by others that would put Spock into perspective. That it was the unique setting, the feeling of being away from our everyday worlds that had created the magical rightness between us. That it was this attachment thing working on me, some alien power I should mistrust and run away from—and not yearn for every waking moment. 

I worked hard. There was repercussions from the plane crash in the mountains that I needed to take care of, and I reviewed safety procedures and convened a committee to institute new and better ones. I spent time soothing the apprehensions of all our top customers because of that first misstep we’d made. I contacted the Minister of Trade on Marius III and instructed José to start drawing up documents that would allow me to establish a branch office there. 

I didn’t try to get in touch with Spock. If he was actually getting over this attachment, then there was no sense in imposing myself on him. He’d implied that’s what would happen to him, and he assumed it would happen to me, too, but every day was a struggle as I thought of him. 

I’d never felt about a woman the same way. I kept telling myself that it was only an infatuation, because how real could twelve days make a relationship? And he hadn’t tried to contact me. Didn’t that tell its own story? 

Until one day Janice breezed into my office with an envelope in her hand. “Jim, this came special delivery.” 

I didn’t even look up from the schedules I was working on. “Just put it on the desk with the rest of the mail.”

It was hours later before I bothered to sort through the mail that she had found suitable to bring to my attention, which was usually not much. The envelope clearly postmarked “Marius” was on the top. I froze. And then I slowly reached for it. 

The outside was typed, not hand-written. I had no idea what Spock’s handwriting looked like. Maybe this wasn’t from him after all.

I ripped the flap open and shook out the contents. A single sheet of paper fluttered out to the desktop. Even before I picked it up I was disappointed, as it looked like a printed official document and not anything like the personal communication I wanted. 

It was a shuttle ticket. For one. From Giria to the capital city of Marius, leaving that Thursday morning and returning the next Monday evening. And that was it. 

My hands were shaking as I tried to take it all in. What…what did this mean? What was Spock saying? 

He was waiting for me as I stepped off the ship on a gorgeous red-skied morning on Marius. I walked down the passageway for arriving passengers, and when I was free of the official stamping and the scrutiny from customs’ officials, he was there for me to walk straight into his arms and kiss him.

“I love you,” I said to him, as clearly as I could.

“I need you,” he said to me, as directly as he’d ever spoken. 

“We’ve got to make this work.”

And we did. We have. You’d be amazed at the synergies you can create between a company like Kirk Express and one like Geodynamic Surveys. Not to mention the synergies between one human named Jim Kirk and a half-Vulcan named Spock. 

My first foray into a same-sex relationship had been my last, as I’d suspected on that night with Spock. Because I’m not interested in anybody else except for that Vulcan acquaintance of mine. Once you’ve been kissed by Spock, well, everything else palls. 

I’m not saying it’s been easy. We’re apart as often as we’re together. I’ve gotten thoroughly sick of the shuttle flight there, just as I’m sure he’s tired of the flight to come see me on Giria. But every two weeks, every three weeks at the most, one of us is on his way to see the other. 

It’s been two years, and we still haven’t run out of things to talk about. I’ve introduced him to all my friends and my cousin Herman who lives across the valley, and once we even ran into Mo from the seminar. He laughed and said he couldn’t believe it, but then he remembered that time Spock hadn’t taken “no” for an answer about that lunch we almost didn’t have. Mo said he should have figured it out from that. 

Spock doesn’t like it when I put my hand to the small of his back in social settings, and I’m not too crazy about that possessive tone he gets sometimes, like that time over lunch, but those are minor things when you come right down to it. I said it that day I first landed on Marius and I’ll repeat myself as often as necessary. Or as often as my lover wants to hear it from me. I love him. Even without the Vulcan attachment, I’d feel the same way. 

And the sex…. That first night with him on Marius was another marathon where we didn’t sleep at all, and I learned the pleasures of being the aggressor when the male body I plundered was one I treasured. We do have a small problem with that, though, since we both like doing it to each other so much. So we take turns, and that’s okay. Like I deduced long ago, my Vulcan is a tiger in bed. 

So. Here I am, thoroughly attached to a being who seldom smiles and will never laugh, and I’m laughing with joy just about every day. Who would have thought my life would take this turn? 

The members of the Confederation Board of Interplanetary Trade: I think we should invite them to the wedding.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published by Beyond Dreams Press


End file.
